Batman Vs Superman: Dawn of Justice

Coming into see Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice, my expectations were low. I’ve had blind dates with high expectations. Going to funeral, there was more of an expectation to meet someone. BvS, there were no expectations. None.

Which should have been my expectations with Man of Steel. A movie that when I saw the trailer, my arm hair stood up. The goose bumps were visible for miles around. In my mind it was the best thing I have ever seen. Then I saw a Superman who wasn’t there to show people how to be better, but was there because it was for a father he had never known. Otherwise he would have kept silent like his adopted father would have wanted.

This moment was that moment, with the narration and imagery in the trailer, that gave me the most hope that this movie was going to be best thing in theaters that year. That we weren’t getting another Scooby Doo story.

And that wasn’t a mistake that I wanted to make again. That sort of heartbreak is only allowed for Cubs in the playoffs.

Fucking Bartman

So far in the first few minutes, I’ve come to a conclusion that Schindler’s List is now considered a feel good movie. The only way it would get drearier is if they started to play haunting female vocals track while Metropolis is being destroyed. It’s really nice that Wayne has a building all the way in Metropolis. Makes him seem like he’s a bigger fish than the largest in Gotham.

I will say this, the way he’s rushing into danger to make sure his employees are getting out says a lot about Wayne. He genuinely cares about people. And it’s the best things so far about  movie. Possibly the entire movie.

Oh look another interpretation on how the Waynes died. Oh Negan is Bruce’s dad… Maggie is his mom? Walking Dead takes must have been awkward. “I know I killed your husband, it wasn’t personal. Want to have a kid together? He’ll be all Batman and shit.”

Lois is now in bum fuck desert. I’m assuming Muslim extremist surrounded by white guys as their hired muscle… Lois is now a hostage, oh how novel, woman hostage. Photographer… Must be Jimmy Olson. With… a… film camera? What the fuck? A fucking film camera? To smuggle… oh nice nod to the Superman tracker. But really a high tech gizmo in a camera that’s older than my kid? C’mon, keep it in the watch.

And Jimmy is now dead. It’s Jimmy because he has the signal and a camera. And he’s at Lois’s side.

Ok, white guys turn on brown guys. No one saw that coming. 🙄

Superman shows up. Angry at lead brown guy. And pushes him through a two foot wall at what looks like 400mph. Superman is back to killing more people. OK… 

Batman in the Batsuit, this is what I’m sure Adam West had to say, “Ho Ho Chum… I’m not going to be considered the chubby Batman anymore”

When Superman gets to Lois’s place. And tell her her that no one died… you could hear the entire town of Rock Ridge shouting in unison, “BULLSHIT!”

Or as a friend of mine pointed out, they’re all sleeping.

Ok, I’m taking a break from watching this movie, right about the time where Wheels the Legman gets bailed out by Luthor. Luthor who might actually be the sunniest character in this entire movie. At least the one who displays more emotion than gloomy.

Annnnd we’re back. Bat-mare is happening. I guess even in the movies, people have to do something else while decrypting files. Bruce Wayne decides that he has to dream at a chair instead of fighting crime. Because that’s what Batman does, dream.

The future, I’m guessing Gotham is just nothing but desert. Gotham, a city by the water, is now a desert. Parademons are everywhere. Looks like we’re getting a Darksied in the future. Oh Batman is using a gun. So a billion years of Batman hating guns, he’s using them. A lot. Tons of gun play. Kurt Wimmer must have got a side job for this movie.

Batman using guns reminds me of when Batman was made in the 30’s. Which is like how Chuck Austen wanted Superman when he was writing. When it comes to it, seems like Austen’s Superman might have been the inspiration to Synder’s vision of Superman.

Oh and Snyder’s fight scenes are filmed on an iPhone on slo-mo. #truefact

Batman might have been lacing his bat-weed with Scarecrow’s fear gas.

Bruce Wayne’s speech after this dream about that 1% chance is a 100% certainty. Sigh… It could have been worded better. It could have been that Superman is the world’s most powerful person on the planet. He needs to have a balance incase something happens to unhinge him, he’s an alien, but has a human personality.

Now we have a speech from Martha, about how the world doesn’t owe Superman anything. Really Martha? Really? Superman should do good because he can show the world how to better. Martha should have said this while holding a cigarette and glass of white wine.  

Oh look Wheels the Legman is still in the movie. And apparently Wayne had been paying for his life since he saved him from the Superman/Zod fight. But Wheels has been sending the checks back. With crazy writings.

Christ, the political aspect of this movie is slightly better than Star Wars(prequel movies). Slightly better.

And now Holly Hunter is getting freaked out by a jar of piss. Totally freaking out. For someone who is in the limelight for a being a political snake, she gets freaked out really easily.

Granny's Peach Tea
Granny’s Peach Tea
Ka-Boom!
Ka-Boom!

And ka-boom!

Heh… Mercy killing.

So far, Superman’s emotions come off as a somewhere below Vulcan & porn acting.

Superman doesn’t want to do good because his being guilted into because of his father. His dad was constantly telling him to hide his powers all the time. Don’t show them. Blend into the crow– wait this is Jor El who was telling him to be a beacon of hope. Not Jonathan Kent, who was a bit of an asshole when it came to humanity. “I saved out farm, but the Lang’s farm died. I can still hear the horses drowning.” Doing good things means bad things will happen. Except when it comes to women.

Screen Shot 2016-04-06 at 4.23.03 PM

Explains why Superman went nuts, putting the extremist to “sleep” when they were holding a gun to her head.

Also explains that now Snyder wants to direct an Ayn Rand movie. Because all of these characters are acting like they’re part of a Ayn Rand book.

The drive is still decrypting. And Batman is doing crossfit. Why doesn’t Batman talk about this all the time? People who do crossfit always are talking about doing crossfit. Batman should have a crossfit cape.

Screen Shot 2016-04-06 at 4.21.43 PM

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Luthor apparently has been doing more things than Batman. Like actually finding out there are more superpowered beings. Has files on them. Flash looks like he’s a slacker. Wonder Woman is a GGILF. Cyborg is a just a kid on a table. Joe Morton is his dad. The best of the bunch is Aquaman. Seriously, seems really bad ass.

But going back to the politics part of this movie, the whole world is screaming bloody murder about Superman. Let’s not discount how much he’s sorta already done in the last 20 months. Capitol explodes everyone hates Superman now. It’s like this earth is populated by Trump supporters.

Just when you think the world is going to get better. Martha Kent is working in a car and Nancy Grace is on the TV talking about how much she hates Superman, or something like that. I can’t really listen to Grace without wanting to stab my ears with kabab skewers. But Grace is on screen and bad thing happen when Nancy Grace shows up. Martha Kent gets abducted by the same white guys who have been causing damage all throughout the  movie.

And it looks like a few minutes later Lois gets kidnapped too. By the same guy. The same damn guy. Sure it might be a few hours apart, but it happens back to back. No cutaway shots to anything else. Just Nancy Grace, Martha & Lois.

Let’s rewind a moment here and talk about Wayne here for a moment. His whole thing about breaking into Luthor’s computers was to find an arms dealer. At least that’s what he lying about to Alfred. It’s all about Batman getting his hands on a fucking HUGE load of kyptonite. When he nearly gets it, Superman cockblocks him and just flat out tells him to retire or he’s coming back to just “make him go to sleep.”

At least that’s what’s implied here.

Lois and Martha are kidnapped. Batman is batsuited up and busts out the Batsignal. Taunting Superman for a throw down. Batman has to kill the guy who loves Ayn Rand. Which is almost where you start rooting for Batman.

Luthor is starting to show Lois that he’s behind things. Using that intellect to cause what’s going to happen. He’s trying to get Superman’s attention, so he knows all about everyone. He knows who Superman is, Batman is, Wonder Woman, everyone. And when he pushed Lois over, Superman saves her.

Superman is ready to make sure that Luthor goes to “sleep.” But Luthor is ready to help “put Martha to bed” unless Superman puts Batman to “sleep.” As he points, you see that GOTHMAN IS ACROSS THE FUCKING BAY! Yes, all this time, Gotham and Metropolis are neighbors. Like next door neighbors.

That head belongs to Lex Luthor on his tower and that's the batsignal in the distance.
That head belongs to Lex Luthor on his tower and that’s the batsignal in the distance.

This is probably the comic-book movie equivalent of saying all black people are related.

Really glad that the TV-verse and a Movie-verse are two different things. At first, I hated the idea that Grant Gustin wasn’t going to be part of the Justice League. After seeing how Superman acts, probably for the best. Hell even Kara, Supergirl, would wonder wha the fuck is wrong with her cousin. Maybe he got hit in the head as an infant?

The Movie-verse Flash has a pony tail.

Screen Shot 2016-04-06 at 8.10.49 PM

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve been thinking about how Luthor acts and he’s basically Gene Hackman with ADHD. It isn’t a bad thing, but I’m really wishing he had Otis at his side. For the nostalgia to really kick in here.

After all this, Batman and Superman get to fight and boy howdy does Batman kick the living shit out of Superman. It’s just ass kicking after ass kicking. When Batman asks if Superman can bleed… Might as well just have fought next to a red Cross.

But like all superhero movies. The good guy find common ground. In this case, both of their mothers are named Martha. In that instant, Batman’s blood lust dies down. Lois is actually the one who saves Superman. And in that instant, Superman and Batman are now best friends.

They had their Step-Brothers moment.

Batman goes off to save Martha Kent. Does badass Batman moves. And more people go to sleep.

You know what, fuck it. I’m getting tired of watching this movie. Doomsday is showing up and Wonder Woman should be too, but seriously, Fuck it

Kre-O Viper

Something blowing my mind right now. I popped on eBay for a moment & Wave 4 Kre-O Vipers are going to for stupid crazy prices. Zombie Viper crazy prices. I’ve been browsing TRU and have found 12 so far. Cheapest I saw on there was for 11 and that was because they guy placed shipping at about $8.75. Crazy.

Gather Around Children For Story Time… The Pig

It’s story time my children. A story of the ages. It has laughter, and yelling, a farm animal and love.

And love juices. The kind that Neil Patrick Harris pays to get out of your car’s upholstery

I purchased a new car back in May. May 26th to be precise about it. It’s a glorious car, a 2012 Chevy Cruze. For once I had a car that was mine and brand spanking new. My last car, a 2007 Chevy Cobalt had recently… started to shit out on me. The A/C went out on one of the hotter days in May. Not just one of the hotter days in May, one of the hotter days this summer. The brakes sounded as if they were signaling the dead that I might be joining them soon. But it had pick-up and go like you wouldn’t believe a four cylinder car could ever have without having made a deal with the devil.

My new car, had power… locks and windows. The power output wasn’t as high as the last car, but it did get nearly 450 miles to the tank and when the car hit ninty, I didn’t see James Dean, the actor, no the one from the fifties, not the porn star, giving me welcoming wave. It was stable and could handle a curve.

But this story promises other things than me describing what could be auto-mobile-erotica. This story promises LAUGHTER, YELLING, FARM ANIMALS and LOVE!

Meghan’s daughter Maryanne has been a friend with my son Lucian since they were in the 3 year old class together in pre-school. Over time, we had become friends as well. Meghan has transformed her central phoenix home into small home farm. With a normal lot, she has 729 sq feet of a garden, several chickens, few turkeys, two cats, a dog and a pig.

We’re going to focus on the pig. The pig was found at Maryanne’s school where for some reason, they thought that Meghan would want the pig since she already had animals. It was actually a good guess. And for the first few hours all was right in the world.

Until she found out that the pig was closer related to a man than a pig. Pyg Pig, was a fucking horny bastard that had ever been born to this world. It was making sweet, sweet love to their bright red wheel barrel. Forever shaming it. Everytime the dog wanted to go pee Pyg was there trying to plug the whole. He had even taken to trying to fuck a stack of wood.

These habits of Pyg was enough where he was not allowed in. You could only imagine the nighttime terrors he could inflict on two sleeping girls. It would be damaging enough to make them C-Team for the stripclubs that litter Grand Ave where the stripclubs are anything but Grand. The pig had to sleep outside. It was for everyone’s best interest.

Pyg Pig also had taken to playing chicken bowling every so often. Ramming into them at full speed. Much to his delight and their hatred.

Meghan had enough and was looking for a new home for Pyg Pig. My dad has couple of acres of land and said that he would keep him until his dad would take him back to Duncan, Arizona where he would either be kept as a pet or eventually turned into bacon. Knowing the habits of the pig, there is a good chance that Grandpa Birdy would have toss the pig over the side of the fence on a full moon, sliced his balls off, rubbed salt over the wound. Only to eat the testicles in front of the pig.

Yeah… My grandfather would eat things Andrew Zimmern would balk at eating.

So back to the pig. Meghan lives in central Phoenix where my dad lives nearly 115 streets away in Near-Far-West Phoenix. Even with a new car, it seemed like the best thing to do would be to line the inside of my car with plastic lining so the pig wouldn’t poo inside or get the nice new car dirty. It could have doubled for preventing my car becoming a crime scene(all the evidence would have been contained). Meghan also added a harness to the little bastard so he would be more manageable.

We waited and chatted until the pig peed so we know that wouldn’t happen in the car. Again, let’s stress that the pig is an asshole. Lucian, Maryanne and Margot all played in the meantime. Everything was looking up and up.

Pyg Pig was in the car. I help him down with one hand rubbing his ear while we drove to the freeway. He was of course nervous. You would hear that ear piercing cry that all pigs seem to possess. He tried to move to my lap. So far, the harness was working fine.

But after three miles the pig was starting to wiggle his way out of his harness and head towards the driver side window. His head nudging the steering wheel while driving 70 on the interstate. I’m sure there were people wondering why there was never a cop nearby when there should have been one.

For a few minutes the pig was lodged up near the seat belt. He was calm for thirty seconds before he moved behind me. Forcing me to be five inches from the windshield. I looked like my grandparents driving. Until Pyg decided that he was ok going back to the seat.

I really would have been better if he had stayed behind me. But the story would have suffered for it. Driving five inches from the glass, but not really noteworthy.

It was the off ramp to the 101. That final stretch to my dad’s house. I changed a song that was on my iPhone that had a lot of foul language, that fucking pig made his move while I was distracted. He jumped on my arm.

He started to thrust. It took a few seconds to realize that piggy wanted Casey as his bitch. His corkscrew cock was ready even if I had no interest in him. The only proper response was to push him down to the floor board.

He jumped back up. Attacking my ear. His subtle way of telling me, “Bitch, this going to happen.” There was horror on the freeway. The pig was humping my arm and I was limiting my foul language because Lucian was behind me in the car.

Thankfully he didn’t understand the pig was raping me.

There was terror laughter in my voice as a keep on saying in my Cleveland voice, “NONONONONO!” All the while thinking myself that this was going to make a funny story.

Finally, I yelled, “Not in the face! NOT IN THE FACE!” It was the only thing that I could think of to yell at the pig.

The pig did jizz under my arm on my Voltron shirt. It might be the only thing that has ever defeated Voltron. Only if Lotor knew.

Then the smell started. The love juice smell. Ugh… The fastest way to kill a new car smell is jizz. I’m sure it’s of all jizz, but knowing it was animal pig jizz just killed it faster.

This time I was able to get the pig on the floor board. I’m not proud but I did smack him twice to keep him down. It kept him down long enough to finish that ride to my dad’s house before letting the little bastard out of the car. It was fortunate that I had a spare shirt in the car. It was never expected to be used. Ever.

Just like I thought that there would never, ever be jizz, let alone pig jizz running down my iPhone screen.

He ended up hiding under my dad’s camping trailer. Humping the ground before we moved him to the stable with the horses.

My grandfather never took the pig. He ended up at a friend of my dad’s home. Where he did try to screw his young daughter. He also molested a couple more dogs and the horses’ watering trough.

I’ve been angry eating bacon ever since.

COBRA!

The other night I showed this movie, at least the introduction to my wife. And the first words out of her mouth was that this sounded like a show tune. At first blush I was a little perturbed that my wife would call my childhood something so campy. Then the I watched a little closer as the rest of the song played out and frown turned to horror as she was right. This was a show tune.

Then the good guys started to yell, “Yo Joe!” and it couldn’t have been campier if it was happening at Gay Pride with cowboys in assless chaps. She was laughing. I was laughing. But she started it.

Now when I want her to laugh, I start yelling “Cobra!” while busting out in West Side Story dancing fight routines.

Joan Rivers

There are times that seeing Joan Rivers has me on the edge of my seat waiting for the moment she rips her mask off and show that she has been one of many women to play Rivers. A Dread Pirate Roberts of women comedians, where the original Joan has been living the last 30 years on an island in the South of France. That this entire time the look of heavy plastic surgery was to disguise when a new one came to take over the previous Joan Rivers. Each one hand picked to carry on this tradition of comedy and fake plastic surgery where you have to wonder if Joan where to smile, would her nipples poke out of her shirts/dresses.

The picture accompanied Newt, and there wasn’t a need for actually editing the image so don’t look too far as to who I think would be under the Joan Hood.

 

I’m starting to believe this…

I ran into an old, well she’s young and I doubt she would like to be called old, friend a couple weeks back at Chipotle, even weirder that a vegetarian was at Chipotle, but that’s besides the point. We ended up talking about how men don’t really age mentally about mid-way into middle school. And it’s true we don’t age mentally about mid-way through middle school and it boils down to one reason. Boobs. A, B, C, D, girls get thing during middle school. So it clicks finally, that all those really hot actresses that we saw in movies, they were as flat chested as those girls who we knew in elementary school. That means that they were going to get breast. As middle schoolers we pictured that every girl got large ones after a while, kleenex was just a helping agent, so in time, we to would get to see these things that have started to pop into our fantasies.

Under the same delusion, we were all the coolest person to walk the face of the earth. Even with our collection of Star Trek comics in folder that we could read at a moment’s notice. We were cool and there was a good chance that we were going to see boob now.

My belief that men really are stupid (it varies from moment to moment, but we are stupid) stems from this idea that we peak mentally when we reach 13 or so. Oh sure, we get cars, mortgages, children, bills and jobs, but once you peel all that away, we’re still horny little middle schoolers who get excited about seeing cleavage and side-boob. Almost as much as seeing the real thing.

Of course this makes women crazy (it also varies from moment to moment), because they hope that beneath all of complexities we give ourselves, that there is something besides the giggling, horny  middle-schooler who’s trying not to be obvious about looking down a shirt of some random girl as they pick something up. We aren’t so it makes them crazy because we’re so damn stupid.

Soon

Soon I’ll have a new 404 page up. I found an image of Yonro the College dropout on Youtube when I tried to play an episode of Shin Chan on the work iPad. As you can see it might be the most perfect image of being rejected while searching for something. Yonro the college dropout is good for something after all.

20110320-063549.jpg

My sisters gas

Once there was a chemical leak so bad that everyone in a 2 mile radius had to go the hospital. People were puking up and all I wanted was eat eggs. Roommates who would have Mexican standoffs over dishes with food growing sentient. But the moment my sister starts to fart, I’m pretty much that little girl screaming & crying.

There have been dead things left in cars in the Arizona summer that have smelled better. It’s awful. My sister 4’11”, maybe a little a buck after an all you can eat buffet had potent enough gas to make the chrome melt off of a trailer hitch.

Again, this me wanting to run away.

Realization

I’ve come to an understanding. I’ve known this for a while, but this is me publicly making this known: I’ll never be a big hero. Maybe a little hero that saves someone before being crushed by a giant used tampon, but nothing more. I’ll be another arch-type. I’m the Woody Allen. Nervous, twitchy, smart ass, who is sort o a sidekick that isn’t behind him all the way. Who’ll get hit, but it would never be that bad since I made a decent joke beforehand.

I’ll never stand up with my man tits and crotch pointed at the world with a backlight and my hair being a de-facto cape. I’ll be stealing some limelight on the B-roll telling that the hero has to look for the right area to stand before he makes his big comment to the world. Generally it’s me going and scouting for him, looking for a kid or a really hot woman to hold onto. He’ll get the gorgeous girl(personally she looks a little to done up) and I’ll get her somewhat really naturally attractive when she’s not around friend(she looks almost the same when she gets up in the morning as when she went to bed).

We both have dumb luck, he pushes it and I just try not to think about it. He’s the guy who stands in front of  a group of people exchanging gun fire and I’m under the table with my beer trying to stay out of the way. We begin to get choked up with the waitress gets hurt. Him because he couldn’t save her and me because she dropped that pitcher of beer I ordered.

Of course when it comes to our views on life, he’ll be god and country with the knowledge that his actions will change the world. Mine are more a long the lines that while my benefits are pretty good, I really could use a cost of living increase.

So I’ll never be that big hero. Which is OK… Who wants to be that guy that everyone wants to shoot at.